


Moon Fever

by BellaRukia



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Lime, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6730120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaRukia/pseuds/BellaRukia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could look into her eyes and make her go through every layer of his being, one by one, until she dismembered him completely. Rukia knew him cover to cover, and Byakuya was so poor and weak in her arms. He would seek her every night, he would make her his before dawn if only that was her wish, and then he just wouldn't run out of reasons to turn back and close the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moon Fever

**Author's Note:**

> **Last update:** 18/04/2017
> 
> I have edited the whole text in order to offer a better translation and reading of the story. I hope you get to enjoy it even more than before. Cheers!
> 
>  **Warning:** metaphoric narrative, angsty romance. I'm not a native English speaker, so you may find grammar spells.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Tite Kubo owns Bleach.

" _And if we bite each other, the pain is sweet, and if we drown in a short and terrible surge of breath, that instant death is beauty. And there is a single saliva and a single flavour of ripe fruit, and I can feel you shiver against me like a moon on the water." Julio Cortázar._

**.**

He wouldn't do by force what he didn't dare put into words; he wasn't going to surprise her when she got into her bedroom at night by grabbing her arm, vehemently, and dragging her down to her futon. He wouldn't make of Rukia his object of desire; he wouldn't call her guilty of his own disgrace. He wouldn't, because Rukia was it all even before he knew.

But the clock struck eleven and Byakuya went into her bedroom. Half-light, her hakama on the floor, _come_ _near, nii-sama_ , and he was already hers.

He could make her moan like no one else would, he could touch her in that place and make her writhe and ask for more. He could kiss her until sleeping and till dawn and she wouldn't get tired, but above all, he could look into her eyes and make her go through every layer of his being, one by one, until she dismembered him completely… Piece by piece, she would scrutinize and understand him, join his pieces back, knit him back, as if she was the one who created him. Rukia knew him cover to cover, and Byakuya was so poor and weak in her arms.

When had he given up on her hands for the first time? He can't remember, but he can remember exactly that it was her who had looked for him at his chambers, in the middle of the stormy night. She was drenched and covered in mud, and he was the one who sheltered her warmly. So impertinent... Such a servant staff they had, and she had to appeal for him. Such an empty space in the house and she had to go and fill his inner void. Were that hours to appear at her older brother's chamber with such a lack of decorum? Were that hours to be so gorgeous inside his bedroom? The precise and faithful memory of her cold and nude skin was still racking his every attempt to turn back. For Byakuya was trying, since then, to turn back.

And it was in vain. His burning and trembling hand made its way door by door until it got her bedroom. And then he found her, Rukia was standing at the threshold, and his hand undressed her and made a ravage as long as he perverted the nightfall. It was not his intention though; he couldn't be hounding his younger sister as if he was sick of love just the way she was for him. Byakuya wouldn't wreck her if she wouldn't have touched him and pleaded for a kiss first. He would seek her every night, he would make her his before dawn if only that was her wish, perhaps the same violent one that he had, and then he just wouldn't run out of reasons to turn back and close the door.

Suffocating, almost an infernal kiss. That was the rising spiritual pressure that every shinigami would envy.

Little lips, childish caresses, and all the secrets of the universe were hidden in her eyes.

It was shameful to love desperately every shadow of that woman. It was pleasant to immortalize between her legs the passion that couldn't be expiated by words. Because Rukia was able to know, even without hearing from Byakuya's lips, that he loved her excessively. She could read him like an open book and discover all his desires and the low passions that were torturing him. She hadn't to question, she knew the answers. He hadn't to demand, she would obey all the deepest and unconfessed wishes of his heart until he got crying embarrassed on her breasts, for she had seen the poverty inside of him.

Wasn't he who would exert his power over her? Wasn't she who would bow her head at him before?

"It will be over soon" Rukia whispered in his ear, like a mother hissing her disconsolate son.

"Don't be afraid, please. I'm by your side, let me make you happy." And it was probable that her intention to comfort him ended up distressing herself in the end. Because there was a reason that Rukia knew very well, and it was that Byakuya didn't want her to make him happy.

He could have her at his mercy every night, he also could hand himself over her warm hands for she could caress him and comfort him; he could be certain of she would allow him to redeem through her body any trace of guilt which would be gnawing at his whole. But, what Byakuya knew the most, with a plain conscience that someone can get on reality, was that Rukia was not meant for him. And he had the same noble thing of a hypocrite, for every time he persuades her to find out the right person, he's only wishing at bottom that it can be him in the end for her.

Nevertheless, there were the evil and prejudices of nobility. Damn honor to be a Kuchiki and damn pride to be like him.

The only way to escape their emotional abyss was making love again. Byakuya even let himself snicker when she was banding his eyes with the pale scarf, and then she started to kiss him - like an erotic game that conveyed a bit of tenderness - every part of his body until he moaned and cut the air obstreperously. Rukia, it was love.

Byakuya would go back to the loneliness of his bedroom before dawn, he would turn to think off once more he couldn't make of his sister the object of desire and guilt that she was indeed. So, when she gasps at his ear and swears to be his, when she shows him the paradise every time she sets her eyes on him while she's joying, Byakuya pulls her even more against his body, loving her and going mad until their sweat becomes fever and the scarf gets coiling, heating, among their bodies.

There is no stillness under the moon. How ironic.

And next day he will pretend that he won't desire to burn in her neck with his lips forever.


End file.
